they are, we know the flesh, we share intercourse but the imagination when unchecked is still related to intercourse; there is always that coupling, the commingling, the coming together
what do you want to know
what do you want to feel
we could delegate this exchange to the archives of the vault that is tocksin
you could pop up deeply further back where no one is reading and say hi

divine questions following a straight trajectory to heaven shot through the heart that lays bleeding on the curb as people pass wondering what happen; what has struck this man down and behold they say look are those wings lifting him?

sounds that splashes color coming from a horn entices them into a cellar where other people keep beat with their feet taping the floor while sipping sloe gin fizzing over the top of their glasses collectively they giggle